“Who?” he asks. “You don’t understand, my friend.” He puts his hand on my shoulder and pauses, like a priest granting advice to a troubled parishioner. “When we play Argentina, it isn’t football, it’s a…” He rams a closed fist into an open palm and asks Pablo something in Portuguese.

“A battle?” I ask.

“Yeah, man. It’s not a game. It is a fucking war.”

I lean back in my chair and take a sip of beer. The neighborhood cat rubs against my leg. We are sitting on Pablo’s back porch in the quiet evening. Earlier in the day I watched Barcelona thump Real Madrid. Pablo and Dennis missed it, they were busy. It was a game I scheduled my day around, but my two Brazilian friends regarded it with almost complete indifference, despite the three Brazilians who participated. That’s what set off this discussion: my indignation regarding their apathy. How could they not care about such an important rivalry, featuring not only the best team in the world but also the best player—Messi?

“I just don’t really like the Spanish league, dude,” says Pablo.

“But it isn’t even about liking the league. It’s about an appreciation for the best.”

They both sort of shrug. Pablo takes a deep drag on his cigarette. “And Messi’s the best player in the world?”

“I think he’s one of the best ever,” I say.

Dennis looks as if I have slapped him. “He is not a Pelé or a Maradona,” he says. “He isn’t even a Kaká. He isn’t going to do anything in the World Cup, man.” Dennis describes the plan by which he thinks rival teams will shut Messi down: employing bands of thugs who will do nothing but kick him when he gets the ball. “That’s it. They will just do like this.” From a seated position he karate kicks at my legs then wipes his hands against one another, as if knocking off dust. “They will take him out.”

“For me,” says Pablo, “Garrincha is the best of all time.” He puts his laptop on a stool and we spend the next fifteen minutes watching Garrincha perform stepovers and feints. The defenders give him an absurd amount of space. “Look at that,” he says. “Look how far away they stand.” Pablo is getting excited. “Look at that! They are scared of him, dude.”

At times I love these greatest-ever debates, and at times they just seem stupid. As we watch these grainy black-and-white highlights I think how silly it was for me even to bring up Messi. He is Argentinean; of course he isn’t the best. This is why Dennis is talking about Kaká even though lately he’s looked more like a Sunday league player than a Brazilian maestro. Dennis once told me that “we all have a little Argentinean man inside of us, and this little man has the name Ego.” Of course Messi isn’t the best.

As I listen to Pablo and Dennis breathlessly narrate the soccer clips, I can’t help but think that Garrincha’s moves wouldn’t work in the modern game, with its physicality and tactical sophistication. Even my brother, who has played soccer fewer than five times in his entire life, notices that “the game has evolved.”

Pablo and I weren’t even alive to watch players of Garrincha’s generation. How can we include them in our “best ever” lists? Pablo places Garrincha at the top of his list simply out of respect: his list of achievements and the mystique of his name. While these players deserve to be remembered, we should stop comparing them to players in the modern game because it cheapens everything. Even if Messi wins three World Cups and five Champions Leagues, even if he wins the FIFA World Player of the Year five times, there will still be doubters because generational comparisons are impossible.

I propose that we shelve the greatest-of-all-time argument. Let’s talk about players in more quantifiable, generational contexts. There has got to be a frame of reference. Messi, Rooney, Ronaldo, Kaká, and whoever else emerges in this generation should be compared to one another based on how well they played together and against each other as contemporaries. They will never win when compared to the Pelés, Maradonas, Cruyffs or even the Garrinchas. The cultural memory of these players carries too much weight. Save the debate for something more tangible.

The clip finishes and we sit for a moment in silence. “So, you guys agree with me that Spain will win the World Cup, right?”

Pablo and Dennis lean back in their chairs and shake their heads. “No way, dude,” says Pablo.

Dennis grinds his fist into his palm, “We are too strong for them, too physical.”

Of course you are, of course you are.

Brian Blickenstaff grew up in Southern California. He is now a graduate student in Mississippi, where people play a different kind of football.

The Game Has Evolved

Great stuff Brian B! I recall living in Buenos Aires and watching the Copa American 2004 final that ended with penalty kicks and the World Cup qualifier in Brazil where the verdeamarela won with 3 penalty kicks by Ronaldo. To say the city shook by the collective shouts of “Che, Boludo” would be an understatement. This rivalry is electric

Great article Brian. It’s always fun to sit down with your mates and talk about the greatest of all time. I noticed that your Brazilian friends didn’t mention Bobby Charlton though… I won’t hold it against them.

The greatest rivalry in football is just as inconclusive as the greatest pleyers ever debate. What about Benfica vs Sporting Lisbon?, or Boca vs River Plate?, Marseille vs Paris-SG?, Inter vs Milan?, Partizan vs Red Star?, Flamengo vs Fluminense?, Colo Colo vs Universidade de Chile?, Hamburg SV vs St. Pauli?
I could go on like this all day and believe me all these matches are unbelievably tense affairs.

@Temjin I understand that those clubs have great historic rivalries, but could any club team stack up to the national team rosters for either Brazil or Argentina? The next time you see either seleccion play, just add up the transfer fees for each player and your head still start to spin….

@elliott The intensity of a rivalry doesn’t have all that much to do with the transfer fees involved; a match between historic rivals in a relegation battle can be just as compelling as Arsenal-Spurs, even if the quality of soccer is lower.

Also, a decent number of club teams can go toe to toe with Argentina or Brazil. Pep’s Barca could easily handle a Maradona-managed Argentina, I would argue even if you give Messi to Argentina.

I laughed out loud! What a great job of expressing the passions that accompany this game. The conversation is passionate, good natured yet biting. A breath of fresh air when it comes to the run-of-the-mill sports writing so prevalent today!

@nick I would prefer Argentina-Brazil to ANY relegation fight off in ANY league. I used the transfer fees at a substitute for talent, my apologies. Pep’s Barca? I definitely think several of their players could crack either the Argentina or Brazil lineup, but not all of them.

Pable is lost in the mist of history, Brian, but he is right about Messi being mugged. Goldblatt in his 963 p. history of soccer, “The Ball is Round” repeatedly cites the mugging of great football stars by less able pedestrian players. It is sorry to see but an unfortunate by-product of the modern game. Bill

@Elliott Part of the reason that Barcelona would do well against Argentina is the presence of the mid-fielders for Barca. Xavi, Iniesta, and Yaya are hard to beat for any team, even international teams. In fact, besides Alves, Valdes, and whoever plays on the LW for Barca, all of Barca’s starting 11 are starters for a top team (I guess Sweden isn’t top, but Ibra’s dang good). The difference is the lack of depth.

I am unconvinced that any international rivalry could match the intensity of one at club level. The most passionate fans simply care a lot more about their club. Mind you, Serbia v Croatia might be a tasty one. Of other international rivalries, Holland v Germany has always had an extra bite as explored by Simon Kuper in “Football Against the Enemy” although without doubt, the dislike is stronger on the Dutch side.

Great post, and the point you make is important – legendary, and let’s face it, to us, “mythical” players like Garrincha, Pele, Maradona all the way up to Baresi, Rijkaard of the 80s will always trump current stars like Ronaldo & Messi because of the unknown factor – most of us weren’t around to judge the formers, yet we are all (probably) in a state of hatred for the latters (I personally cannot stand Ronaldo and am indifferent to Messi) and this completely clouds judgment and makes comparisons pointless.